


Spring Sylleblossom

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 16:35:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18154328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Nyx had decided that the Lucians were far too optimistic about the spring weather.





	Spring Sylleblossom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JazzRaft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/gifts), [LogicDive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LogicDive/gifts), [glaivenoct](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glaivenoct/gifts).



Spring came to the Citadel with a flourish. It came before the actual snows and rains had turned from a freezing, grey deluge to the promise of upcoming warmth and sunlight. It came in through the open windows— handled and maintained by an army of staff— and with the tail end of every chilled wind Lucians refused to acknowledge. It came with clawing ice along the windows and weeks before the season actually managed to catch up. Nyx refused to switch uniforms until it was properly spring— the heavy, warm coat of his winter uniform fastened tight across his chest as he wandered his routine through the chill Citadel halls now opened to the cold winds of the early spring. 

“Never thought you Lucians were so optimistic.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

The prince fell into step next to him, dressed for meetings and conferences, and whatever other duties his title demanded. But he shivered when they reached the end of a cool hallway— the dark stone trappings of Lucian elegances skeletal cold at the upper levels as they were. The sensible staff had already fled for warmer, if stuffier, floors and levels and duties. 

“I mean it,” Nyx stuffed his hands in his pockets, despite his company. Despite the hallowed halls and disapproving looks in paintings of long dead kings and queens around them. He could feel the ice in their eyes just as well as he could see it on the glass of the windows along the halls, the crystalline patterns breaking the walls apart as the sun moved through the sky. “The snow’s still out there, you know.”

“Are you admitting weakness, hero?”

“No, I’m admitting to good sense.”

There was a painting they liked to visit up here— where it was quiet, and deserted with or without the chill. It had it’s own space of honour among the long lines of ancient Lucian royalty; a shrine settled in a nook at the end of the hall, easily overlooked for the more prominent displays and portraits.

“Good sense and Nyx Ulric in the same sentence?” Noctis smiled, paused at the favoured portrait; “I’m pretty sure Drautos has a saying about that.”

“Just say ‘hi’ to your mom so we can get somewhere warm, little star.”

“Pretty sure he’s said something about your lack of respect too.”

“Noct—”

“I’m kidding.” Noctis offered another smile to take the edge off the bite in his words— the warmth in his eyes enough to ease through the cold hallways. 

The portrait was of Regis’ queen. The formidable, proud Aulea, smiling the same delicate smile Nyx saw echoed in her son. In her portrait she held a single sylleblossom, the trademark blue of the petals standing out against the dark colours of her formal clothing. Nyx had studied the image before, as Noctis dragged him through the quiet, serene halls. They had come once a week to change the flowers settled in the vase below the image. 

Nyx wasn’t sure when Noctis had taken up the tradition. 

He wasn’t even sure where Noctis managed to find fresh Sylleblossoms most of the time. And Noctis was never one to give up his secrets. The petals of the older flowers were still soft, still fragrant. They were still the vivid blue he expected, and nearly a match for the new ones Noctis was settling into the vase in their place. They drooped, here and there, the lost petals they expected to find dotting the table and floor swept away by staff at some point. 

They still made Noctis smile. 

“Hold still, little star,” Nyx said as Noctis fussed with the new flowers. 

Noctis had never been one for decoration in his own uniforms— in the suits and jackets and trappings of his station as he met with people he could barely stand in conference rooms and meetings. But there was a button hole in every jacket that Nyx knew would go unused, and he liked the way the flowers looked so close to Noctis’ eyes. 

He knew it would be lost before the end of the day. But for now it was there, secure as Noctis blinked owlishly at him. 

A quick kiss to finish off the gesture, and Nyx grinned at his handiwork, hands tucked back in his pockets. “Can we get somewhere warm now?”


End file.
